


You Wanna Know, Know That It Doesn't Hurt Me?

by jojothecr



Series: Change of Season 'Verse [5]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, Written in 2010
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojothecr/pseuds/jojothecr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set loosely between <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/220339">If You Deny This, Then It's Your Fault</a> & <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/220336">Change of Season, Love Can Die</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Wanna Know, Know That It Doesn't Hurt Me?

Taking a sip of his coffee, Jensen looks up to the window, watching as the soft, yellowish stripes of sunrays bleed through the thin veiling, and onto the walls of the bedroom that’ll never be his again. That never really was his to begin with.

He sets the cup down with a sigh, and pulls closer another full cardboard box, scrambling a quick note with a black marker on the tape-sealed top: Books.

There are so many of them. Sealed, open, empty... Boxes fill half of the room, making Jensen wonder how, and _when_ he’s managed to collect all this stuff. So many CDs he still hasn’t had the time to listen to, so many books waiting to be read, but so far only collecting dust, DVDs...

Jared’s voice behind him is quiet, unsure and full of concern. “Are you okay?”

Jensen turns to look at him, knowing the answer’s written in his eyes, no matter what he does and how much he tries to hide it.

He’s not okay. Doesn’t even try to pretend he is, when he’s not. Not here. Not now. Not with him.

He’s tired of pretending. Tired of playing the role of a best friend, who’s never been more than just that. Who’s never known how Jared’s lips taste. Soft, wet and warm. How he felt inside him, filling him, consuming, sinking into him like he belonged there. He’s exhausted of wanting what he’s lost. What still lingers so close, and yet completely out of his reach. He’s exhausted of _them_.

Jared can see, because he _always_ can. Always did.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, standing in the door, leaning against the door-jamb just like he’s been twenty, forty minutes ago. An undertow of pleading and fear taints his tone, giving it the urgency Jensen never knew how to fight. “Jen, you don’t have to go.”

“Jared... We talked about this.”

But had they really? Jensen knew, the second Jared told him that he got engaged. He _knew_ , because from then on he had been running. And Jared must have too, for he asked him to stay.

“Yeah, well I still don’t think you need to go... It’s a big house.”

“Not big enough,” Jensen replies, looking away, his voice cracking to something barely more than a whisper. “Not anymore.”

 _And it no longer feels like home_.

Jared sighs; a heavy, troubled breath, and Jensen feels a stab of remorse ghosting somewhere around his ribcage. He wasn’t the one who stood down, who cut off the strings of their fragile relationship and started a new one because he was too scared, but maybe he didn’t fight hard enough? Maybe he _let_ Jared walk away? Too soon? Too easily?

Jensen pushes himself to his feet and picks another empty box, filling it with the framed photographs that used to hang on the light brown painted walls.

“Can’t wait to get out of here, can you?” It’s an avowal and an inculpation in one sentence, and it hurts.

“It’s not like that.”

Jensen’s gaze lingers on the photo in his hand; a picture of Jared and both of his dogs on the set of Supernatural. One of the very rare moments when Jared stayed still, for a little longer than he usually does. Sprawled on the yellowish green grass like a snow angel and absorbing the first, truly warm touches of the spring sun. Unconsciously, Jensen’s fingertips copy the outlines of Jared’s grinning face, and he smiles bitterly at the distant memory.

“Or maybe it is.”

He sets the photograph into the box carefully and then glances up, staring out the window at the mist that spreads through the backyard, floating just above the tips of the outgrown grass. “Can’t you feel it?” He asks.

“Feel what?”

“Us,” Jensen shrugs. “In here. In the... kitchen. The living room... In every part of this house.” He faces Jared, catching the understanding in his eyes that slowly supersede the confusion. “It’s where it all started. And where it ends. I just...” Jensen heaves a sigh, lifting his hands in a clueless, resigned gesture. “I feel like I can’t breathe here anymore. Like all the memories are gonna suffocate me.”

 _Like your proximity, your omnipresent warmth and smell will suffocate me._

Jared’s nod is almost unnoticeable as he pulls from the door, moving towards Jensen. “Yeah, I know.” He swallows audibly, fighting emotions just like Jensen. And failing. “And I know you’re not okay. And I am sorry about that.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Will you really?”

“Sure.”

“When?”

 _When you get divorced. When you come back to me. Please erase, rewind._

“Eventually.”

“Jensen, I’m... I hate seeing you like this. Knowing it’s my fault. But... I’m still your friend, and I care. And I wish... I wish there was more I can do... You sure there’s nothing I can do?”

Jensen blinks and panics. Because Jared is all of a sudden close. Too close. Warm and familiar, smelling like tropical fruits and his shaving cream. His hair is still slightly damp from the shower and slicked back, which gives his face an almost unbelievable edge of vulnerability. He’s beautiful.

And Jensen’s not strong enough. All of his protective walls are still shattered, in ruins, waiting to be rebuilt. And why on Earth had no one bothered to warn him that working on Supernatural meant falling in love. With a man? The wrong one on top of that?

“Jen... What do you want me to do?”

 _Step back.... Or closer. And then never leave._

“Honestly? Nothing. You can’t give me what I want. And I don’t really want you to, because... I _can’t_ , actually. You belong to her and that’s where we end... There’s nothing you can do.”

“That’s a little less of what I can do.” Jared objects, measuring Jensen up in an inquisitive, questioning way that makes his breathing even more difficult. Because it feels much like how he used to look at Jensen in the beginning.

“I guess you will just have to let me fall for once.”

Jared’s hand is warm, almost too hot, as it rests on Jensen’s bare forearm, sliding higher in a gesture that is supposed to soothe, but instead makes Jensen’s skin itch with a way too known feeling of longing.

“I’m trying, Jared.” Jensen says, watching his fingers move closer to Jared’s other hand that rests on the cabinet behind him, and follow the shape of Jared’s wedding ring. It’s cooler than Jared’s skin, and still it sears like a just burnt stigma. “I like her, but... I can’t help hating her at the same time. She’s beautiful. And sweet. And sexy and... a woman. Because that’s it, right?”

He looks up, meeting Jared’s eyes that go from guilty and curious to terrified within a second. Yet they’re darkened, filled with something close to desire he can’t completely hide.

“You chose her ‘cause she doesn’t have a dick. ‘Cause you can be with her without hiding... It’s so much easier to love someone you don’t have to lock up in the closet.”

“Jensen...”

“Almost two years,” Jensen reminds coldly as he draws his hand back. Jared’s touch disappear almost immediately then. “Almost seven hundred days of moving forward, then stepping back. Of kissin’, lovin’, makin’ out... Promises and hopes and you throw it away like it was nothing... Like we were never anything more than a one-night stand.”

“That’s not true,” Jared says weakly.

“No? Then why does it feel like that?”

“Jensen, I’m sorry... I am.”

“That’s nice,” Jensen utters ironically. _But that doesn’t change anything. Doesn’t make it hurt any less._ “How many times are still you going to say that?”

“I screwed up, I know that.” Jared claims; his voice growing louder, picking up the strength. “On all frontiers. But what can I do now? Seems like it’s too late for anything.”

“Yeah,” Jensen agrees, stepping aside. “It is.”

It’s only the fact that Jared didn’t move to step out of Jensen’s path, that he’s still standing there in front of him, looking guilty and like a kicked puppy at once, which makes the slowly, gradually building anger inside Jensen finally explode.

“You know what I want?!” He spits, making Jared almost shrink back at the unexpected blaze of rage. He doesn’t recede, but he’s staring at Jensen as though he’s never seen him before.

“What I wish?! I wish you really felt what you’re saying. ‘Cause you say we’re over, and ‘cause you’re married, but every time you look at me... Every. Damn. Time. Jared... I see something else. I really wish I could stop loving you, stop wanting you, but...” Jensen pauses, losing the energy to continue, feeling stripped, exposed by his own feelings he just can’t keep inside for any longer. “... How the hell am I supposed to do that, when I know that you feel the same? Because you do, don’t you? You still want us. You still want me.”

Jared looks away, casting his eyes to the floor and pleading guilty better than words ever could.

“But you’ve always been too scared... Which is why we’re here now. But you know what? It’s good that you’re scared. It’s good... _now_.”

There is no response, no reaction at all, coming from Jared, and Jensen snorts, shaking his head in disbelief. He’s not even that surprised, actually, just tired. So goddamn tired.  
He puts his hand on Jared’s chest, pushing him out of his way, determined to get away from there. Go, possibly run.

He doesn’t expect Jared’s long fingers to close around his forearm, so tight he can feel his blood pulsing through the veins in his wrist, and yank him back. His name is a malediction, a sigh on Jared’s lips as they come dangerously close to his own.

“Jensen.” Jared says again, even quieter this time; his hot breath sending painful needles of want down Jensen’s spine, weakening his knees.

“Jared, no. No, this... isn’t...” He starts resolutely, struggling to squirm out of Jared’s grasp – And how could he ever forget how strong Jared is? – but then he somehow forgets to go on.

Because Jared’s looking at him like Jensen knows, like he’s the answer to everything.

And because this is exactly what he wants. The last thing he should want. He knows it’s not right. Is, with every fibre of his body, well aware of their reality that no longer involves them, but he can’t bring himself to care. Can’t stop himself from leaning forward.

Jared’s heart is beating wildly beneath Jensen’s palm, as thought trying to match Jensen’s own, when his lips brush across Jensen’s, with a touch that is so gentle and light it might be only accidental. It’s not though, because it never retreats.

Jensen’s lips part beneath Jared’s, obedient and desperate, and he moans, startling even himself, when the tip of Jared’s tongue runs over his bottom lip, copying the structure and the shape. His fingers curl over Jared’s ribs, clutching the fabric of his T-shirt firmly, suddenly terrified that he’ll stop, pull away.

Jared does none of that, instead he releases his grip on Jensen’s skin, guiding Jensen’s arm up and around his neck, making him stumble closer. His other hand cups Jensen’s jaw, tilting his head just right to deepen the kiss as his tongue slips into Jensen’s mouth.

Jared kisses like he’s mapping, learning, re-learning. Starving. His lips are smooth, as they always were, and warm, sliding across Jensen’s like a liquid.

The kiss is slow, hesitate and unsure, like the very first one that never got lost or forgotten among the other, usually hurried and hungry ones.

It doesn’t taste like a goodbye. Even though it is. Another of their many _goodbyes_. And _forgets_. And _forgives_.

Jensen savours salt, and a new kind of heat on his trembling lips, and his heart clenches with remorse for Jared. Then he realizes that the tears are his.

 _Protective walls shattered, in ruins. Crushed to dust, cast aside. By a kiss that wasn’t supposed to happen._

Jared pulls back, eyes dazed and worried as they search Jensen’s. Jensen can barely see him through the veil of salty water filling his eyes.

“Jensen... Jen.” Jared’s voice is melting, caring and sort of cracking. His thumb strokes Jensen’s cheekbone, wiping away the tears that just refuse to stop falling, no matter how much Jensen tries to make them. “Don’t cry... God, please.” Jared pleads.

The more he talks though, the longer his gentle touch lingers and the wetter his own eyes get, the worse it aches.

“I can’t. I have to go.” Jensen means to stay as he steps back and away from Jared’s contact, but the only word, the only sound that really gets out before his voice completely dies, is “I...”

Jared’s arms fall to his sides, empty once again, as Jensen turns and _runs_.


End file.
